Friday Fictioneers – Locked-in

Nothing. Whiteness. And the hum of a motor. I can see and hear, but when I try to move, nothing. Not restrained, just no muscles. Not even to call out. Without larynx and tongue, the shout remains trapped within me. Am I dead?

Shadows move across the ceiling. People in the room.

Helen’s voice. “How is he doctor?”

“A vegetative state. He may come out of it, he may not.”

The scream inside me has nowhere to go. It may live in me for ever.

Friday fictioneers is a weekly challenge set by Rochelle Wisoff Fields to write a 100-word story in response to a photo prompt. You can find other stories here

Fancy sharpening your skill with writing exercises? The Scrivener’s Forge offers a new exercise every month to hone one aspect of your craft. Take a look at this month’s exercise on point of view

I remember feeling that way during the surgery to reconstruct my face. I could see them doing the surgery, feel the pain, and couldn’t scream. I was attached to a respirator and in what they call a “twilight” sleep. Sleep, my ass! I still wake up screaming sometimes, especially in the winter when pain is high.